Hold on Loosely
by van Damme
Summary: A short series of vignettes about Mr. Gold's feelings for Belle/Lacey and Belle/Lacey's feelings for Gold. Rumbelle. Conflicted feelings.


**Chapter One**

At first he was unsure of what, precisely, woke him from his light slumber after only just managing to fall asleep. Reason came about rather quickly, however, when the other side of the bed sputtered and coughed, and he turned over in alarm to find the beautiful woman beside him attempting to retch her empty stomach onto the bedside table.

"Belle," he murmured, sitting up to let the knit blanket tumble to his hips. She didn't hear him past a throat grinding cough, perhaps for the better; she hated when "Belle" slipped past his lips. And at the moment, he wondered how he could mistake her for the young woman he had initially fallen in love with. He could only chalk it up to appearance. With her back to him, it offered him a moment to admire her flawless beauty: soft alabaster skin peeking past a stretch of lace that spanned the width of her back, dark waves tumbling over her shoulders in disarray and still smelling faintly of smoke after a long day at that godforsaken slum.

And then, as if she had never been up in the first place, her body dropped down to the bed again so abruptly that he found himself reaching over to ensure her steady breaths against the back of his hand. They came slowly and steadily, and relief prompted him to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. Finding her skin cool, Rumplestiltskin reached down to pull the sheet over her nearly naked body, followed by the knit blanket and quilt that rested at the foot of the bed. It was all he could do for the girl's comfort, given that she had surrendered to her stomach's overpowering urge to relinquish its contents nearly the moment they passed the threshold to his home and wouldn't let anything be done with her since. Any headway he'd made on her flimsy excuse for a blouse had disappeared and he'd spent nearly an hour holding her hair away from the toilet seat and inwardly cursing Regina for everything the bitter witch was worth.

Earlier that same evening, she had agreed to come home with him after he'd found her attempting back to her own apartment in no shape to be wandering the streets. Teetering on heels that made knifepoint look savory, she had leaned into his hand, allowing him to steer her into the passenger's side of his car. That seemed like a far-off memory by this point, as he watched her breathing settle and her face smooth back into the soft expression that was so familiar to him. It was no great loss to him that he had been forced to tuck her into bed early. His love for Belle had much more depth than a mere worship of physical beauty. With that in mind, his feelings for Lacey perplexed him beyond all manner of reason.

Sinking back down beside her, he propped his head up on his hand to watch her sleep. If she woke, Lacey would surely be alarmed, but he had little fear of such things when the girl was passed out in a drunken stupor. She wasn't likely to stir again until late the next morning, which left him with more than enough time to study her. His questions would never be answered this way, but there was nothing to do but wonder until he found his solution. Here, sleeping soundly beside him, he could find his Belle beneath the mask of the curse. Once asleep, she put up no fights to his arms around her, often venturing to nestle closer – but pulled away as soon as she opened her beautiful blue eyes and surrendered again to the cowl of delusion Regina had offered her.

"Gold" took the place of "Rumple" – more dignified, sure, but hardly endearing. Liquor ran through this girl's veins as kindness and courage did Belle's – but even in her most belligerent phases, he could sense what he loved. She wasn't afraid of him – she was never afraid of him. The single quality that he found most irksome and in need of thorough resolving in others awarded her a badge of honor in his eyes. Especially now, when it offered a sense of familiarity for him to cling to while he attempted to coax his true love back into herself. He could feel how malleable her gentle spirit was underneath an armor of raunchy frivolity, but poking at the soft spots made him nervous. A wrong move could send her running in the opposite direction, and no matter who she [i]thought[/i] she was, he needed her in his life, right where she was.

It was not lost on him, of course, that Lacey offered his darker needs place to fester. Belle would hardly stand aside and watch him beat an offender into bloody, begging submission just for laying his eyes on her. Would never encourage it, despite the alleviation it allowed him. Her behavior often caused him to wonder if Regina had taken his girl's heart from her chest and locked it away. He was aware that she hadn't – because he had checked, of course. Wiping blood from the tip of his cane was a reminder of just what sort of a beast he had evolved into, but Lacey's presence to offer incentive for bad behavior was a trap he too readily fell for.

Thinking of it should render him ashamed of himself. It did, really – but the recollection that he would be facing Belle's leveling, blue gaze and tight-lipped frown after he finally found her again was hardly conducive to his search for her true memories. He couldn't imagine that the girl who put so much faith in his ability to be more man than beast would be too eager to look past his latest slipup. She was a forgiving soul, but he was afraid he had crossed a line that she wouldn't be able to look past.

Then again, that was what he counted on her for. To forgive him and accept him in ways that no one else could. It had taken him a long time to find that she understood him all too clearly, perhaps better than he understood himself. He only needed to give her the opportunity. He only needed to ask. It was that very perception, though, that tethered him away from her. He knew he was a hard man to love, and couldn't help but wonder what it would take to push her far enough away that she wouldn't want to come back.

Lost in his own thoughts, he was once again taken by surprise when she rolled right into his chest. Even reeking of stale smoke and sour spearmint, he couldn't help curling an arm around her. She squirmed feebly in response, but settled for tucking her face against his collar, one arm slinking up to rest at his neck where her fingertips twitched lightly. "Belle," he murmured, and she answered with a soft moan before burying her face further into his undershirt. It was enough of a response for him. Content for the moment, he sank down to the pillow and ventured to let sleep take its tentative hold on him once again.


End file.
